


Three Cheers For Modern Medicine

by suchanadorer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2011-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:42:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/suchanadorer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John drags Sherlock to a concert to unwind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Cheers For Modern Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Rosalía](http://anarmydoctor.tumblr.com) based on an idea she had [HERE](http://anarmydoctor.tumblr.com/post/9840418714/whats-your-favourite-song-at-the-moment). You can find the song [HERE on YT](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADCJo4gFFHE).

“Look, Sherlock. We’ve been running around London for three weeks straight, and even if you don’t need a night off, I do, and I’m taking you with me whether you like it or not. You can hang at the bar and deduce what people are going to order before they do it all night for all I care, but I’m going to the concert to listen to the band. They’re called The Blizzards.”

Sherlock sniffed, tugging at the cuffs of his shirt as he followed John up the street. This wasn’t his idea of an evening out, and even though he had no desire to sit alone in the flat while John was at a club, he’d surprised himself by accepting when John had asked him to follow. That John had been defensive during the entire taxi ride was expected; he liked the band a great deal and was worried what Sherlock would think of him for liking them.

The queue was short, the concert having started before they arrived. John and Sherlock were waved inside and John pushed his way to the far side of the bar with an impressive efficiency; he could take up a lot of space for such a small man. Sherlock unbuttoned his jacket, sliding between rowdy twenty-somethings in t-shirts and jeans as he tried to keep John in sight among the crowd, a rainbow of colors under the lights from the stage. The air was warm and thick with the smell of stale beer, sweat, and a hundred different, cheap aftershaves and perfumes. The music made everything in the room seem to vibrate. A girl smiled shyly up at him as he squeezed by, her dark curls set up in a high ponytail and a bottle of beer in her hand. Sherlock gave her a perfunctory grin, stepping deftly to avoid the lager spilling from the neck of the bottle before be turned to catch up. Just because he was wearing a pocket square did not mean he intended to use it.

John ordered a beer for himself and arched his eyebrows at Sherlock, who waved him off with a short shake of his head. No, this was a target-rich environment for him to observe and he had no intention of muddying his senses with alcohol. He’d noted the unmistakable smell of pot coming from the far back corner of the room. Predictable. The music was already a distraction, as well as John, who’d started drinking before they’d left and was now ruddy-cheeked and glowing in the heat of the basement club.

“If you’re going to stay here, then hold this!” John yelled over the music, then pulled off his jumper in one smooth motion to reveal a white t-shirt tucked into his jeans. He shoved the jumper into Sherlock’s chest with enough force to push him back against the bar. John rocked on his feet, his other hand landing on Sherlock’s arm as he caught his balance. He looked up at him and giggled an apology before turning towards the crowd, roaring as the next song started. “I love this song!” Something tightened in Sherlock’s stomach as he realized that he’d instantly recognized John’s aftershave as soon as the other man had leaned towards him.

 _But behind my smiling features  
My heart has mini seizures_

“Trust me, I’m a doctor.” Sherlock murmured to himself, half-smiling and shaking his head. “Of course you would.” John was dancing in front of him, lit in red and blue and completely unashamed despite being at least five years above the average age for the crowd. Sherlock tucked his hands into his pockets, John’s jumper hanging over one arm.

 _For till now I hid well  
My life’s one living hell_

He wasn’t a man accustomed to feeling out of place in any given situation, so he resigned himself to simply feeling overdressed. He made a couple of short, superficial observations about the people around him and was irritated to find that his gaze kept coming back to John. Sherlock watched him; the muscles of his back and shoulders working under the now-damp t-shirt and a sheen of sweat forming on the back of his neck. The singer in the band wasn’t any good but John knew every word to the ridiculous lyrics and was singing along at the top of his lungs. The tightness in Sherlock’s stomach spread alarmingly as a blonde at least ten years younger than John stopped in front of him and smiled. Sherlock’s eyed narrowed and he took in the change in John’s posture as the girl leaned in close to John’s ear and said something to him, her hand on his arm. He stopped dancing, momentarily confused, then smiled and shook his head, nodding over his shoulder. Nodding towards Sherlock.

Oh.

Unexpected.

 _I will finally, finally be the man that I know I am not_

“Thanks to the magic of modern medicine I fly to Barcelona with yooooooooouuuu!” John had turned around and was dancing back towards him. Sherlock tucked his chin in towards his chest and looked down at him, eyebrows raised in amusement. John’s whole face was lit up with enthusiasm, his hair clinging in damp tufts to his forehead. He took a swig of his beer, then fixed his gaze on Sherlock, grinning ear to ear while he moved forward. Sherlock backed up, settling on a bar stool.

 _And as the guard takes hold of me  
I fear the things he’ll do to me_

There was something playful and predatory in John’s gaze that set fire to the tightness in Sherlock’s stomach. He felt a lightness that had nothing to do with any chemical interference. Well, no external chemicals.

 _What’s your name?_

If John had any problems with personal space then he’d evidently forgotten them.

 _What’s your age?_

He tilted his head to the side, chin jutting out as he sang, his eyes still fixed on Sherlock’s.

 _Where you from?_

Sherlock pulled his hands out of his pockets, laying the jumper across his knee as John moved nose to nose with him.

 _Sign this page_

Sherlock had never heard the song before, but he’d studied music and knew a climax when he heard it. He lifted his hands to either side of John’s face and closed the last inches between them, slipping his tongue into his open mouth. John’s mouth was cool and damp and still tasted like beer. For the briefest moment it felt as if John would pull away, but then he answered the kiss, the cold beer bottle settling on the back of Sherlock’s neck, John’s other hand slipping under his suit jacket to take hold of Sherlock’s waist.

The song ended and John pulled back, resting his forehead against Sherlock’s own. “Three cheers for modern medicine, eh?”

“Indeed, John.”


End file.
